There is a quietude about Tasmania, a sense there is no frantic pace to life there, and a feeling of slipping into a rhythm directly linked to Mother Nature. The landscape is, quite simply – beautiful. Uncomplicated in its presentation of green pastures, gum trees, pristine waterways and the cerulean-mint sea. Driving holidays are one of my favourite modes of travel, the freedom to stop where you like, when you like, for as long as you like, is distinct. After picking up our hire car, Hettie (yes, I name them), our first stop was the Oasis Hotel, Dunalley. We love an Aussie pub, this one sits comfortably on a hill overlooking the bay – drawn to its wide verandah as the afternoon sun played on the still water, and over a beer, we watched a couple of fishing boats glide their way home. It seemed that farming and day-to-day living are inextricably linked with the capacity of the land to provide and its necessary protection. The scale of farming is small, making it easier to be sustainable, focus on local needs. Sheep farming was dominant on the land we drove through, emerald fields dotted with woolly backs and dozens of bouncing baby lambs. Waterways were full to brimming from recent spring rain, which had contributed to the lush fields and abundance of arum lily’s sprouting among jonquils, and the occasional spray of bright-yellow daffodils. Beekeeping was of note, many of the farms had rows of boxes beside fences bounded by native bushland. Our overnight destination, Eaglehawk Neck, about an hour east of Hobart. Smack on the rim of Pirates Bay; I will have to investigate whether it is named after actual incidents of pirating. It was chilly, but a row of gum trees filtered the direct force of the onshore southerly wind and the sounds of the sea were a comforting backdrop as we walked the water’s edge. I wondered how the first peoples protected themselves from the cold. I imagined fires and furs were essential. Also, about the convict history and how it would have been tough to survive through the winters, especially considering the meagre clothing provisions and rudimentary living standards of that time. Safe to say, I was glad to be the beneficiary of that resilience, as later, I slept tucked up with an electric blanket and feather-down pillows. We discovered the Tasman Peninsula is breathtaking, the walking trails are easily accessible, and well maintained – plenty of opportunities for that timeless photo as you stroll at the edge of a rugged coastline backed by wall to wall blue, from sky to sea. Back in Hobart, we picked the perfect day to head up Mt Wellington. Cloudless sky and no wind, although, still frosty at the top – 0 degrees. What was left of the pure white snow cloaked the rocks and boulders like mother nature’s doilies. The seasons of melting snow have created stone of all shapes and sizes, forming cracks and crevices which eventually split them into ever smaller pieces. Ice had formed into the shape of the wind on one side of the taller branches and shrubs. There are no trees at the top – too windy most of the time, with speeds of 174 kilometres per hour recorded at the summit. Shrubbery is truncated and grows in the protection of boulders and fissures. The rocks are speckled with lichen, old and new – sun bleached white, grey, lime-green and dusty pink. Imagine a vast open nest, sheltering hundreds of ancient, weirdly patterned dinosaur eggs. Hobart stretches out below, on the banks of the Derwent River, which meanders its way through the city and out to the Southern Ocean. The bush surrounds it in a dense landscape of green and gold – there are our colours, Australia, as far as you can see. The surprising discovery – a strong sense of connection to the land, and the realisation that it is this land, that shapes my Australian psyche. Impressive, wild, expansive, unspoiled. It is also transforming – to feel the powerful force of what this abundant ecosystem has to offer, getting out amongst it, breathing in the pure Tasmanian air from the pinnacle of its iconic landscapes. Come on, next stop – Cradle Mountain.